A Single Regret
by queenofowls
Summary: With Edelgard's army coming to destroy Garreg Mach, Dedue is prepared to die for his liege without regrets-or so he thinks, until he is reminded of just one last thing... [Dedue/f!Byleth]


Dedue takes a deep breath as he weeds his small plot in the greenhouse. He is well aware that there's no point in caring for these flowers anymore. Soon, he is sure, the greenhouse will be overgrown and abandoned. Soon, he is sure, he will die.

The Knights of Seiros are outmatched and the students-those who are willing to fight the Empire, at least-are undertrained.

He has no doubt; the professor's plan is excellent, and surely it will minimize the casualties of those who cannot flee... but the upcoming battle isn't too unlike the monastery tournaments in a way. Battle after battle until either you win, or until you run out of steam. He cannot imagine a scenario where they will win, but if his liege wills it...

The greenhouse doors open, and behind him echo crisp steps. He could guess the owner, but by the voice that chimes out, he doesn't have to.

"Dedue. I'm pleased to see you here." The professor's voice drops into a murmur. "I guess I can depend on you to provide some sort of normalcy." She sounds... different. Certainly less strict than usual. Maybe even... weary?

He stands to greet her, brushing the soil from his fingers, then bows.

"I'm glad to..." He pauses for a moment. _To what? Provide normalcy? To be dependable? To see you?_

_Ah.._. but he can't say that last one aloud. He changes the subject quickly.

"Do you need something from me, professor?" She hesitates for a moment, but eventually shakes her head. Dedue lets out a mild breath as he sinks back down into the dirt. "Then surely you have better things to do than waste your time on a man of Duscar."

She doesn't bother responding to the self-deprecating comment.

Instead, Byleth watches over him steadily, her arms folded. The silence between them is... comfortable, for the simple reason that her presence is comfortable. To be frankly honest, he would be content if the emperor's army slay him then and there if it meant that she would always look at him with such kind eyes. He thinks the thought, acknowledges it as true, and says nothing. He is far past the point where loving the professor is a thing that he is willing to fight or deny. He has long since accepted the two forbidden facts that he cannot tell a soul: first, that he loves her, and second, that his feelings have only gotten stronger.

She breaks the silence to ask him about the upcoming battle.

"Are you afraid?"

"Of death?" Dedue snorts. "Absolutely not. I am prepared to fight to the last breath to keep his Highness alive. If I die to that end, then I will rest easily and without regrets." A half-truth, if only because he has a feeling that in the moments he lays dying, his thoughts will be filled with a certain stoic professor's face. Dedue refuses to say as much. Some secrets must be taken to the grave. He is prepared to make this one of them.

Byleth nods in reply, but offers no opinion of her own. Not too unusual, considering she is his professor. He tells himself that she is just concerned for the wellbeing of her students to loosen the chokehold on his throat.

She isn't-couldn't be-asking out of concern for him.

"I..." He looks up at the sound of her slightly hesitant voice. "I have something to give you."

Dedue's eyebrows lift. A gift? She's given him gifts before-and he always appreciated them-but the way she is avoiding his eyes... he can only wonder what it is. He takes a rag and wipes his hands, then stands again.

"..." She presents it without fanfare. There, stretched towards him in her open palm, lies a simple ring.

He stares at her hand, his heartbeat fluttering in his ears, then forces his eyes to meet hers.

"What is this?"

"My father's. He... gave it to my mother. It meant something, once, but now the two people who could appreciate it most are gone." To his surprise, the professor's eyes seem almost... moist. "I am... not like you, Dedue. I have many regrets, some of which I will carry for the rest of my life." Her eyebrows furrow as she closes her hand over the ring. "I don't want this to be one of them."

He forces himself to speak.

"What are you saying, Professor?"

Instead of immediately replying, Byleth takes a moment to look Dedue over from foot to crown. Her pale, hungry eyes take in his dark, oiled skin, the gentleness in his large, calloused hands, the strength to protect in his broad shoulders, legs and thighs. Her eyes are filled with an emotion he's seen before, but never quite so strong, and certainly never directed towards him.

_Longing._

He can barely hear her reply. "I have... never seen you as just a student." _Oh?_ Some sort of surprise must cross his face, because she answers the unbidden question on his lips.

_How do you view me, then?_

"As a man, Dedue." Byleth hesitates for a moment, then quietly clears her throat. "I wanted to wait until you graduated to say anything, but... it seems like graduation is upon us." She muses to herself, looking down at the ground. "From students to soldiers..."

Strange how a moment ago, he was thinking on his inevitable death and how he would rest peacefully with only vague regret... and now, in just a moment, he knows as he looks into her eyes that it will be anything but vague.

He wishes he could stop her. If he hears any more...

But then, he wants to hear more. He would do anything to hear more.

"I told you once that I valued you but it's more than that, Dedue." The professor's voice is rarely raised, but now, she speaks so softly that he has to strain to hear her. He draws closer to her and tells himself it's so he can hear her better. "I... think of you often. Much more than I ever should." Byleth presses her lips together and clenches the fist encasing the ring. "Regardless of our ages, as your professor I cannot say more than this-" Dedue pulls the professor into his arms. She rests her forehead against his chest, echoing herself, her voice strained. "I can't say anymore than this but..."

"I know, Professor." He wishes that he had something else to offer, but if he gets distracted... if he chooses to love her any further than in the confines of his heart, then his loyalty will be divided. And now, with Edelgard coming, he cannot be focused on anything else besides delivering her head to his liege on a platter. He strokes her hair tenderly, unable to break the silence, unable to break her heart just yet. "I'm sorry."

Not yet...

But, eventually, his hand slows to stop. "I can't accept it."

She replies quickly, her voice rumbling in his chest.

"I know." _Then why did you tell me?_ As if she hears the whisper in his heart, Byleth speaks again. "With everything that's about to happen, I thought you deserved to know." He nods once in reply as she takes a step back, her expression blank.

Dedue restrains himself from gathering her in his arms again. The touch was just meant to comfort her, but as he looks at her, he knows that it's for him too. Comfort for what they can never have. Comfort for their mutual regrets.

He remembers the way she reached for him, once, and in that moment, he does the one thing he can. He takes her hand and gently presses his lips against the back of her fingertips, the gesture of a knight to a lady. He is no knight, and she is no lady-but all the same, he pours his regrets into that lingering, longing touch.

It's all he can give her, but he is certain she knows how much it means. She stares into his face searchingly. He isn't sure what she's looking for, but she must find it, if the way her eyes soften are any indication.

"Oh, Dedue..." She sighs his names and before he knows it, her fingers are against his cheek. He shuts his eyes at her touch. They brush across his skin, caressing the warmth there as though she is memorizing every patch of his flesh with her hands. His breath stops as her fingertips ghost the shape of his lips. He's certain she feels it breeze across her fingertips, giving him away, and his eyelids flutter open with uncertainty. _Is this too far?_

He contemplates the question painfully, but Byleth doesn't allow it to stop there. She slips her arms around his neck, and slowly but steadily lifts herself on her toes to graze her lips against his, the first contact more breath than skin. It's the anticipation that makes it so difficult, but Dedue has waited for this moment longer than he thinks, especially considering that he had been unaware that he was waiting for it at all.

They stare into each other's eyes.

_What is he doing, allowing this?_

"Professor." Firm as it is, his own voice is a raw whisper, revealing much more than he means for it to. It breaks the moment between them, and she pulls away. Steps away. Dedue knows he should let her go. He knows he should leave it here so that he can die with his regret, but as she turns away, he cannot stop himself from gripping her shoulder. She pauses, allows him to turn her around. He takes her chin lightly in his hand, his voice almost angry. "I told you not to have dealings with a man of Duscar."

His other arm sweeping behind her to pull her stark against him, Dedue's lips crash against Byleth's, stuck trying to communicate things that a single kiss never could in a thousand years time. He means to be gentle, but all he can taste is their mingling desperation. He has wanted this for much too long to try to control it, and Byleth's equally emotional response doesn't give him much reason to try.

As her mouth falls open, Dedue tilts his head to taste more of her. If he is to die, then this is what he wants to remember; the one time, the _only_ time, he reached out for something he wanted. His tongue strokes against hers. This is no battle of wills. Instead, he uses it to coax her sweetly to let this moment be theirs, to let her taste him freely as he is her. A quiet noise of longing escapes from her mouth as he pulls away for a moment to let his eyes roam her face. Byleth's cheeks and lips are flushed, her eyes half-lidded, her chest a steady rise and fall. With a face like this, he cannot resist tasting more.

His lips are everywhere he's ever wanted to kiss her, touching her eyelids, nose and cheeks before returning to the lips of his beloved.

_Why could he never have the things he wanted?_

He kisses the corner of her mouth, then trails across her chin to her ear as she lifts her neck responsively.

_Is he truly cursed?_

Byleth cries out quietly as he takes an impulsive taste, his tongue trailing down her neck. The sound sends shivers down his spine and gives him an answer.

_No._

A cursed man would never have such privilege as this.

He lets his kisses linger as he brings them back towards her face, then tilts her head with his hand. As he trails his kisses back towards her lips, Dedue can taste the perfumed oil she uses on her face and body. He tries his best to imprint it into his mind.

The professor's arms slide from around his neck, fingers untangling from the base of his hair. He hadn't even noticed, but his hands too have shifted, a hand gripped firmly on the soft flesh below her waist, and the other on her hip.

He kneads his hand experimentally and Byleth responds by turning crimson. Not the worst development, frankly speaking.

"Dedue, I didn't realize you... ah..." She seems at a loss for words. Not that he's surprised. He's taken so much care to avoid showing how deeply he cares, how often he's imagined this very scenario, how much he's wanted to touch her and be touched by her since she first reached out with those cursed fingers, that he is not surprised at how shocked she seems. Instead of replying, he presses another sweet kiss to her ever responsive lips. These kisses can express more than his clumsy, over-thought words ever could.

Reluctantly, Dedue pulls away, careful not to touch her. She reaches out to him with the ring, the small weighty band still clenched in her fist, but Dedue just looks at her and subtly shakes his head.

He cannot taint this last moment, just as he cannot indulge anymore.

Even though his lips are still tingling from their foray across the professor's skin, his fingers itching with the desire to feel more of her.

Even though his heart yearns to reach for the ring in her palm and take her as his.

Dedue knows that he is but a corpse on borrowed time. He refuses to let her chain her heart to a dead man.

She does not force herself to smile. Instead, as Byleth turns away, he is the one who is forcing himself-forcing himself to ignore the fact that her arms are trembling. He has no words of comfort. _When the time comes, I will be fighting for you, too_, he thinks with finality-but he lets her go without speaking and only watches as the professor slips away without saying goodbye.

Dedue looks around the empty greenhouse at the lush, thriving greenery. He thought indulging in his feelings for Byleth would rid him of his one regret, but... he caresses his empty ring finger with the opposite hand and shakes his head to himself.

He has merely traded in one regret for another.


End file.
